


Happy Birthday

by Salvachester



Series: Dean and Reader One-shots [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-02
Updated: 2015-12-02
Packaged: 2018-05-04 11:37:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5332739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salvachester/pseuds/Salvachester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reader surprises Dean on his birthday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happy Birthday

**Author's Note:**

> Not much to add. Wee bit of bondage.
> 
> Gif credit: http://kurisumakises.co.vu/post/49362307645
> 
> I do not own the rights for Supernatural.

                                                    

The timing couldn't be worse; you had planned the perfect day, but an unexpected little accident changed everything. During a Wendigo's hunt, Dean had ended up with a broken leg and was now secluded in the bunker while on the mend, which of course he didn't like it at all. He wanted to be out there hunting in spite of his cast.

Dean's birthday was three days away when you and Sam had to rush to clean a vampires' nest. Dean had wanted to come along because  _'no fuckin' way I'm staying holed up staring at the ceiling'._ Both you and the younger Winchester convinced him otherwise; although, there was another reason why Dean wanted to come along: he wanted to watch over his girl and his little brother. Typical Dean, always wanting to be the protector, even when he wasn't in shape to do so.

You had hoped the hunt will be done the day before his birthday, but you and Sam encountered some complications and were forced to stay one more day. Dean had texted and called you a couple of times a day. Not only did he miss you, but also he was bored as fuck, so he'd send silly jokes and would wait eagerly for your reaction.

The 24th rolled in and you were anxious to get back to the bunker and Dean; you had wanted to leave right away, but you and Sam were beat and in no condition to drive for so many hours. You needed at least four hours of sleep, and you also needed a shower.

You knew that Sam had called Dean to wish him a happy birthday, but you weren't going to call him. You wanted to surprise him, and calling him would have taken away some of the mystery you wanted to maintain.

* * *

Dean was out of his fucking mind, not only was he bored, but also he was feeling a little needy, which was standard behavior when he was sick. He simply loved how you would tend to him, not in the  _'bring me this or that'_ way, but in how you'd just lie down next to him and keep him company and be affectionate. And cuddly. Yeah, he loved when you were all cuddly. And also he was needy in the  _other_  way...

After he hung up with Sam three hours after midnight, he was waiting for your call, but it never arrived. He was bummed about it, but soon he brushed it off and went to sleep; not without first having some of the canned food you had brought him before you left. It wasn't his favorite, but it wasn't like he could call for delivery, or make a run. Not just because of the cast on his leg, but also because you and Sam had deliberately taken the Impala so Dean had no other choice than to stay put. He was still rambling to himself about that one.

It was after noon when Dean heard the bunker's heavy garage door slam shut, and he instantly smiled to himself. He sank further into the bed and pretended to not have heard you arrive, he was too busy watching TV. Yup, he was still a bit offended that you didn't call..

You leaned against the door frame and gave him your best sexy smile. "Hey, gorgeous, how you holding up?"

Dean frowned for a moment when he saw you were wearing a long raincoat, then his smug smile surfaced. "Hey," he replied, drawling the E just as he looked at you up and down, "how was the hunt?" His eyes lingered on your stiletto boots.

"Same ol', same ol'," you replied, still on the doorway.

Dean tilted his head to try to see past you. "Where's Sam?"

"In my apartment." Your answer certainly confused him. "What, you thought I forgot about today?"

His smile instantly returned. "You little vixen... you had me going for a moment there, babe. Still, it doesn't explain why Sammy is at your place."

"Well, I needed him out of here, so the only way to make it happen was to let him crash at my place until tomorrow." When you winked at him, Dean swallowed hard. "Happy birthday, Dean," you said as you opened your coat to reveal you were only wearing lacy underwear, stockings, and a garter belt.

You had dolled up at the motel before leaving, and put on jogging pants and a t-shirt for easy removal. Of course, Sam had noticed the stiletto boots, and had shaken his head, scoffing and muttering an "I don't even wanna know". You had taken off the extra clothing as soon as you entered the bunker.

Dean was speechless, or rather, he kept repeating 'wow' over and over. You smirked at his reaction, it was both adorable and hot to see him like that. You slowly walked up to him, making sure to sway your hips.

His tongue swiped over his lower lip before biting it. "And here I thought  _I_  was supposed to unwrap my present. Not that I'm complaining, of course." He shifted in the bed, getting himself in a better position; he knew he wouldn't be able to be on top of you, given the annoying cast on his leg.

You crawled up to him and then straddled his stomach; Dean sat up just slightly and then pulled you down to him, kissing you tenderly and passionately; his hands gliding up and down the length of your back.

"I missed you," he whispered before resuming the kiss.

"It's okay, baby, I'm here now. I missed you too," you replied without breaking contact. He groaned at the word 'baby'; he always did that; it seemed to spur him on because of the sensuality you always put behind it. You simply loved to watch him cave in like that.

He pulled away from you, looking at you up and down, desire evident in his eyes. "So... How pissed would you be if I tore these off?" He was fidgeting with the waistband of your panties; that sexy smirk lighting up his face.

"Very pissed," you answered, gently swatting his hand away, "these aren't from Wall-Mart. These are Victoria's Secret; a gentleman got me this set for my birthday. I'm sure he'll be devastated if anything happened to them." You gave him another kiss.

"What kind of man gives underwear to a lady?" Dean tried to act serious and shocked and offended, but failed miserably; the corner of his mouth was slowly turning into a smile.

You gave him a mischievous look. "A  _very_  naughty one," you replied as you ran a finger along the ridge of his nose.

Dean pulled you into his arms once more; this time the kiss was more urgent and sloppy. You were grinding his stomach, you both were groaning and humming. Of course, only you were getting the right friction; and his groans were more out of protest than from pleasure. He slowly moved you down until you were sitting on his pelvis. He uttered a relieved "that's more like it"; and you couldn't help laughing at that.

You got off of him, which of course did not amuse Dean at all, at least not until you stood next to him so he could take your panties off. You had the idea of putting them over the suspenders of your garter belt given how much Dean enjoyed fucking you while still wearing your boots.

He licked his lips as he slowly pushed them down to your knees; then you shimmied them down and kicked them off. You knelt at the end of the bed and carefully removed his underwear; he sighed in relief once they were off, and the sight of his hard cock, already glistening with pre-cum, sent shivers down your spine. You straddled his stomach again, this time making sure his erection was in contact with your skin. Now there was only that old Zeppelin t-shirt in the way, which you slowly pulled above his head.

Dean's hands were roaming all over your back and sides, gentle and sensuous and maddening; the man had a way of making you see stars whenever he touched you. You pulled away briefly to open your duffel, which lay on the opposite side of the bed, and pulled a pair of leather handcuffs, winking at Dean in the process, who immediately gaped at you and set his hands next to the headboard, grinning wide.

"Geez, sweetheart, taking out the big guns, huh," he said as his head hit against the propped up pillow, trying to keep his composure as you bound him.

"Mmhhmm, you deserve it," you replied as your hands began trailing that magnificent chest of his, you then leaned and your mouth found his pulse point. He squirmed when you blew some air after licking his soft skin.

You wanted to extend the foreplay as much as possible; you just loved watching his expressions whenever he moaned. You were careful to not stimulate him too much, or else he'd get desperate to fuck you. Normally, that was something you'd try to achieve, but since Dean had his mobility reduced thanks to the cast on his leg, you didn't want to risk making him uncomfortable, or making the injury worse.

Long minutes passed and you were still kissing him roughly and deep, when he suddenly pulled away, almost breathless and uttering a shaky "Impala". He repeated it right after.

You instantly stopped, suddenly feeling a bit worried. This was the first time you ever heard him safe-wording. You looked behind you at his cast. "What's wrong, did I hurt you, you want me to stop?" You asked, worry clear in your voice.

"N-no. Don't stop, I'm fine... I'm- just take these off, please? I-I can't stand them, babe, I need to touch you," he replied, taking a quick glance at his bound hands.

"Sure." You hurried to free him, and the moment it happened, his hands were all over you, pulling you into his arms and kissing your neck and cheek. "I'm sorry, Dean, I thought it was a good idea," you apologized, suddenly feeling bad for him.

"Shh, not your fault," he reassured you softly, brushing away a strand of your hair that was covering part of your face.

His lips trailed to your collarbone, while his fingers slowly locked in the straps of your bra, gently pulling them down. He kissed his way down to the rim of your bra, nibbling and licking the skin; and the way in which he was groaning soon had your breath quickening. He looked up at you and smirked.

"You little shit," you muttered, and he laughed a bit.

His hands found the clasp of your bra and unhooked it; he slid the straps down your arms at a nerve-wrecking slow pace, and once the damn thing was gone, his mouth was all over your breasts. His hands were tracing every inch of your skin; and once again, you marveled at how gentle those rough and calloused hands were.

"Fuck, Dean," you sounded almost breathless, "it's your birthday, not mine." You sighed deeply; you wanted to take lead again, you really wanted to, but his touch and kisses were too damn distracting, and too damn good to pass.

"Mmhhmm, I know," he replied barely stopping his ministrations; now his right hand was slowly making its way down. His left arm snaked around your waist, holding you tight; his thumb gently pressing and circling your clit before he slipped one finger inside you; and a few moments later, he slipped two more.

You moaned softly, throwing your head back, grabbing his broad shoulders for leverage, and slowly grinding down on his hand. "Dean... I-I should be... fuck... should be giving  _you_  a treat, not the other way round." Fuck it felt too fucking good.

He pressed a kiss on your lips to shush you. "Oh, sweetheart, this is a treat for me, trust me." His voice was full of desire, and you couldn't help sighing. This was so typical of Dean, always getting off of your pleasure.

Dean was gently pressing his fingers on your hip, groaning softly at the friction your butt-cheeks were giving to his erection; the hand between your legs working at a steady pace, not too fast, but not too slow either. He was building you up nice and good while his mouth kept traveling from your neck to your mouth and back again.

You started grinding down a little faster, rolling and rocking your hips, testing every angle. You were desperate to bounce on him, but you were mindful of his leg; having to control yourself was causing the opposite effect: you were undoing faster and faster. Your moans getting louder and your breath hitching were Dean's cue to push you over the edge; his fingers kept brushing your g-spot over and over while his thumb stimulated your clit, and mere seconds later you were coming all over his hand with a moan of his name. You clutched his shoulders for what it felt like forever, and once the shuddering stopped, you collapsed against him; your face buried in the crook of his neck.

Dean lifted your face and kissed you deeply; his tongue exploring and teasing your mouth. He pulled away slowly. "You ready for me?" You could hear the intense need in his voice, despite of him trying to hide it.

You smiled back at him and nodded, then he gave you a quick kiss on your lips before lying down. You knew the drill all too well by now; you lifted yourself up a bit to give him access again so he could coat his hand with your slick, which by now was a lot given your orgasm; then he stroked himself a couple of times before grabbing your hips and guiding you down.

You both groaned as he entered you inch by inch, and once he bottomed out he remained there briefly, rolling his hips, before he pulled almost completely out. You let him set the pace and guide your hips; he certainly had the upper-body strength to handle you without moving his hips too much; you wanted him to feel physically comfortable, even if that meant resigning a bit of your pleasure. Although you doubted that would happen. No matter the position or circumstances, Dean was an amazing and generous lover.

He bent his good leg for leverage and angle control; one hand remained on you hips while the other headed for your breast, squeezing and kneading the soft flesh. "Fuck, honey, lovin' the view from down here," he said between groans.

You kept rolling your hips, gasping every time he hit your sweet spot; your hands were placed at the side of his torso, on the mattress, giving you the perfect control for your movements. Dean slowly sat up and his arms instantly enveloped your back; one hand firm on your ass and helping your rolling and rocking. He buried his face on your neck, moaning loud once you started going a little faster; you moaned in reply, feeling completely aroused by his sinful sounds.

Now your arms were around him as well; the feel of his hot, sweaty body against yours, and his hot breath on your neck fueling your fever. His groans and grunts were drowned by your skin.

"Don't be shy, baby, nobody can hear us," you said between your own moans; and fuck if he didn't comply...

Dean could be really loud, if he allowed himself to be; it wasn't common for the two of you to be completely alone; not even in motel rooms, because a part of him was always aware of his surroundings and that people could be listening. And in the bunker, usually Sam was around, which meant being reasonably quiet, or else the younger Winchester would wake up with your sex noises.

He let himself go, allowing all his desire and passion to be heard throughout the bedroom and the hall. It was music to your ears, and soon you joined him; feeling free that, for once, you didn't have to worry about the volume.

You were amazed at how Dean was controlling himself, dragging out the moment for as long as he could. You, on the other hand, were feeling ready to blow up, your pussy felt overstimulated thanks to your previous orgasm, and soon you were grinding down harder.

Dean trailed his hand from your back to in between your bodies, and began teasing your clit again; his mouth went for yours. His kisses were rough and open-mouthed and full of heavy breathing; and then he was throwing his head back, groaning loud as he came; his hips pistoning erratically. You just loved watching him like this.

"Come on, baby, come on," he was now begging against your cheek as his hand kept circling and pressing your clit. A moment later, you were clenching around him, getting a last loud moan out of him, and triggering your second orgasm.

He gave a few more thrusts, riding out both your orgasms, before collapsing against the pillow, and pulling you down along with him, instantly wrapping his arms around you. Dean sighed a few times, trying to catch his breath and then kissed you, long and sweet. You gave yourself into it, while at the same time lazily unzipping your boots; you've become over aware of them by now, and they were annoying you. Then the stockings and garter belt followed.

You snuggled against him, tracing a finger along his tattoo and feeling the fast pounding of his heart. He kissed the crown of your head, while his thumb was brushing over your shoulder. He saw your worried expression.

"What's wrong?" He asked, lifting your chin so he could look at you.

You shrugged. "Nothing... It's just that this wasn't exactly what I had planned, I wanted to give you the perfect birthday, you know?"

"Oh, it was perfect all right. Believe me." His gentle tone and sweet smile convincing you in a heartbeat.

"Okay, if you say so," you smiled back at him, "I wanted to do it at my place, you know? Fill up the bathtub, spend hours in there with whiskey and some power ballads, and a lot of bubbles and water."

Dean laughed lightly. "Oh, I bet you did. Don't worry, this was awesome, really,  _really_  awesome." He kissed you again. You abruptly pulled away from him; his sweet expression suddenly changing to confused.

"Almost forgot," you mumbled as you got up and rushed out of the bedroom, buck naked.

"What?" He shouted once you were out of sight.

When you came back, his face softened when he saw the plate with two small cupcakes; one had a birthday candle stuck in it. He couldn't see what you were hiding behind your back.

"I'm sorry I couldn't get you a proper cake," you apologized as you lit the candle and held the cupcake in front of him. "Make a wish."

Dean smiled wide before thinking for a moment, then blew out the candle. He gave you another kiss, and that was when he spotted the box you were hiding behind you.

"What's that?" His grin was wide; it was like seeing a kid on Christmas morning.

You gave him the box, anxious to see his reaction; you knew he was gonna love it. Dean was tearing up the wrapping paper and then he saw it; his eyes going wide, mouth agape.

"No way," he uttered looking up at you, then back at the box. It was a 1/18 scaled replica of the 67 Impala. "No fucking way!"

He momentarily set it aside and lounged at you, hugging you tight. "I take you like it," you laughed, trying to breathe. Damn he had a hell of a grip on you.

Dean relaxed a bit, still holding you in his arms. "Thank you! I love it, geez, where did you get it?" He asked right before kissing you again.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told," you replied once he pulled away.

You both lay down and he pulled you in his arms once more. "You're fucking awesome, you know?" His smile was so bright that you almost felt like crying happy tears.

You nodded in reply; your eyelids suddenly feeling too heavy. Between the late hunt, the few hours of sleep, your turn to drive, and the sex, you were completely exhausted. Dean grabbed the sheets and covered the both of you, then resting his lips on your temple.

"Best birthday ever," he mumbled before drifting off to dreamland as well.

Of course, you completely forgot to mention the pie waiting in the fridge; but it certainly will be a nice wake up call for him.


End file.
